Psycho but not Pomp
by Ikolis
Summary: Minor apologies for all the minor spelling and grammatical errors  ..                                We just might deal with Psychopomps here, but then again it might as easily be about psychotic people, or very pompous people. I'm not really sure anymore
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It seemed to draw a line, a line she could not cross. She knew so much, but the world seemed to say she knew nothing. She said she knew nothing, and that was certain too. As certain as nothing could be, and she fell into the trap of thought again. It's not like she didn't realize that, she did, it was just the way she was that she couldn't think in any other way. She knew and she didn't know, of everything and nothing. She was a dream, a part of some virtual reality and at the same time more substantial than reality itself. She and others called her person Dawn, but that was just a string of words laced around an empty piece of tainted clay if it was even clay.

Life to Dawn was a corridor that held a myriad number of doors of a myriad number of forms, metaphors for life's eventual end. Other's end though, although if they were the end of her perception or their actual life she didn't know. She didn't know. That statement seemed to resound in her head as she walked down her metaphorical dream-state. She could see the line and she was walking towards, unable to stop. It was blurry, but it was there. She was walking down the corridor, quietly observing the different doors and thinking about how her mind subconsciously assigned each person as tidy a summary as a door. But as always her eyes returned to line she was approaching. It seemed like she had been walking for quite a while now. She wondered why she was walking but there didn't seem to be an explanation for it, there didn't seem, didn't seem to be one here.

Then something seemed to click and Dawn stopped walking her metaphor, she stood still and looked at the door on her right. It was a mask that chilled her very spirit, very appropriate for the abyss the corridor was carried in. There were line markings and a slit for both an eye and part of a mouth, in both their places darkness seemed to be quite happily resting. Although not sure why, Dawn reached over and opened the door to see darkness smiling in a manner that implied pain. Dawn tried to run but after ages of walking her legs were still. The darkness took her into its embrace smiling, still like her legs. And then there was pain. Seeemed.

It's a very lonely house Dawn thought as she walked aimlessly through the different rooms. It wasn't that large a house; it was all one story containing three bedrooms, two bathrooms and all the other essentials. A misnomer though that it was since a house wasn't really necessary except for the self-actualization dependent. She headed outside to grab the paper, and once inside Dawn grabbed a poptart and some orange juice. Cups weren't really necessary when the house was yours alone. Paper, poptart (strawberry), and orange juice (extra calcium and pulp free) in hand Dawn sat down at the kitchen table and turned to the comic section. She liked Dilbert, Doonesbury, Pickles, Mallard Fillmore, etc. She wasn't sure why she even got the paper even more, it's not like she read it for the articles and she could just read the comics on the internet for free, but there was just something about reading real print, be it book or comic, that couldn't be replaced by computers. Her favorite was Doonesbury, at times it felt like they were borrowing from her writings, Bush was indeed a Sith Lord, it was most palpa-ble when he ate with a -tine, a.k.a. fork.

Dawn chuckled to herself and finished up with her poptarts, it didn't take her too long to eat since she liked them cold rather than toasted. She had never really tried them toasted but she liked them this way and using the microwave took longer anyways. She lifted up the lid of defective trash can, the ones where you can step to open always break sooner or later, and tossed the crust of the pop tart she didn't like stuffed into a napkin which in turn was stuffed into a cup she had decided to use after all into the almost full bag. She would have to clean that soon she thought, and walked back into her room. It was painted a light blue that remained dark as long as the curtains over her two windows were closed, and they always were. She picked up her blue blanket from her bed, the bed was a child's bed, and she had never really felt the need for a new one since she didn't mind extending her legs off the bed. The computer, though, was new in a line of computers, windows of course. She turned it on and while she was waiting for it to load, she had a lot of junk programs on it, the pack rat that she was, or the lazy rat that she was didn't really want to get rid of it, got her I-Pod and turned it on. The screen flickered for a second and Love Fool by the Cardigans showed up and in her ears she listed to its haunting yet upbeat melody. Dawn liked those kinds of songs, Duvet and such. She had her I-Pod set to repeat the song and its melody played through her mind continuously, the lyrics joining her soul until she only picked up the random word and so entrenched in her mind that it seemed to be out of it.

The computer was on now; it was a drug of sorts that had her addicted. It had taught her patience and gave her pleasure in return, she spent days now surfing Wikipedia. She learned every name of Solomon's seventy-two demons, their titles, the number of legions they possessed and even their servants, she had made up stories for every one. Her favorite was Astaroth, it was pretty funny actually, some theologians actually thought him to be Astarte in disguise, which meant he would be the goddess of love. Ha! A demon prince of hell the goddess of love in disguise, sweet Aphrodite favors demon flesh. And that was just one article, and just one website.

Dawn spent her days reading books and comics online, when paper was not available or she didn't feel like shopping she had no qualms about reading things free online. She also enjoyed the vastness of mp4's; she had watched Serial Experiments Lain on veoh and bought it in real life just because it was so good. And that was just one philosophically wrought method of storytelling, and it was just one of many video sites on the Internet.

She usually kept a word window open at all times, since she didn't leave home that much it was like her notepad where she kept all he random thoughts. Instead of recording them in a tape recorder she used a word processor. It was also where all of the thoughts went into whatever story was currently being written, but mostly it was her thoughts recorded.

_I believe nothing, for I write of Everything._

_Great men are forgotten, and in their place truly great men are remembered. _

_I believe that everything is made of belief._

_The god of atheists tossed paradox into existence and laughed._

_Of imagery and Philosophy, the first carries Poetry's heart and the latter her mind._

_Charon's a stickler for three sided die._

_I'm so alone, but is it not better for it to be so? Will someone tell me?_

_Immortality lies in the technologic future; the present demands no rest for me._

_Black holes expand, doom just takes a while._

_Rhyme cry with die! Do it!_

_The French Entente of Royalist Necromancers claims all; it's a form of future form._

_Appreciate my errors, for chaos I write and in May I die._

She woke out of her surrealist induced trance to the sound of music in her ears, that and she could swear she heard the doorbell ring. She wondered if it was one of those televangelists, she always wanted to have a debate with them, she swore one of these days she would try to proselytize a priest to her religion. It went by many names, Nusquamism, FRNism, Reificism, like all good small religions it was whim-based. She reached the door and peered out the peep hole and saw a friend of hers, which was astonishment in and of itself.

Jack Richard Kuceyeski invited her out into her patio, the cat was currently enjoying the ministrations of his hand and he enjoyed the feel of light as he sat on the patio bench.

"Hello Dawn, fancy meeting you here! Care to join me and this marvelous feline of yours. She's such a nice cat."

"Señor Patches is a he for your information. And he's not mine, he's the neighbors. I have allergies remember? Couldn't keep a cat in the house for more than a few hours before I'dve used up all the tissues."

"Still your cat though," he held up the very agreeable Señor Patches and made him wave at Dawn with his cute little paw. "See, cat's only wave to their masters you know."

"Sure Dusk," Dawn rolled her eyes in the most exaggerated manner possible. "Pray tell me why you've come to my patio today."

"The gang was wondering if you wanted to join us for dinner at El Adobe Saturday. We could get Suzie's table and enjoy ourselves, so how's about it?"

Dawn thought about refusing but then she remembered she had to do at least this to say she had friends.

"What time?"

"Do I hear an implied yes? I think I do! We'll be there at five; we'll catch up and enjoy the bread and wine eh? Nice book by the way." Accomplishing what he had set out he waved goodbye to Señor Patches and her master and set out. He waved goodbye from his green Toyota and drove away from Calrtop Street leaving Dawn with Señor Patches. She sat there in the patio for a while petting him, and eventually just letting her hand lay on his warm body both of them content and the feline sleeping.

Dawn quietly said to no one in particular, "I have all the time in the world." She chuckled and brought the I-Pod out of her pocket. She turned to the Beatles section and choose When I'm Sixty-Four, it reminded her of her parents. They always used to say this one thing when their parents, her grandparents, were over. If we're like that, her grandparents always arguing with each other and oblivious to the world, for god's sake tell us! Dawn knew they would've, and that she wouldn'tve. It was nice to reminisce every once and a while about the future she thought to herself as she listened to the homicidal rock band that killed the music, she could picture the headlines, The Day the Music Died. She chuckled at her joke and decided she had spent as much time with Patches as she should, inside the house she washed her hands of any allergen containing cat hair and retreated into her cave/sanctum room. It was really a matter of perspective.

Dawn sat down in her chair and gazed at the computer screen that still held up the word screen she hadn't closed. The music in the background helped her forget about the meeting she had promised. It's not like she didn't like her friends, it was just that her imagination was better company. It was a land of fantasy she could afford to live in, after all people paid to see her dreams and have her dream them. She was listening to Hey Jude while she wrote whatever philosophy came into her head.

Dawn was modifying the FRN texts, it was still far from complete, in fact it would probably never be complete but she felt compelled to write it, to write about the French Royalist Necromancers, her own little conspiracy she shared with the world. Hg(Mercury(Hermes)), the god, was a saint. Tim, the god of Atheists, was the official but not often recognized god of FRN. Dawn sighed, and thought of writing down the truth of Pan Twardowski, necromantic son of Hermes(Mercury(Hg)). Her steady gaze was interrupted by a mask she could have sworn she had seen before; it had a slit for the eye and one for the mouth. A yellow eye and black lip greeted her from behind the mask of which could be seen a slight curl as if to suggest the man was smiling at her. She could hear an echo of a laugh, presumably directed at her.

The man spoke in a sepulchral voice but all the while she could hear the amused undertone in which he continued to speak.

"Feeling down Dawn? Well I can remedy that in a magical way, and no, you did not take acid and then forget about in and then proceed to dream that a man in a mask is talking out of your monitor if that is what you're wondering. Now if you will just come with me I am quite confident you will be the happier for it."

Dawn thought, something she had tried recently not to do as much of, it made her feel a bit off, but she was thinking now and when Dawn really thought it was quite a ride.

If I'm on acid, then I might as well do what strange people tell me, after all their opinions are probably my own manifest. Or at least better than my own. But such logical reasoning probably means that I'm not on any drugs, hallucinogenic or not, and that I'm either suffering from a mental disorder (very likely) or that a man does in fact have magical powers and has chosen me for whatever reason a man with magical powers may have. Yet through my own reasoning it is better to acquiesce, for even if I am suffering from a mental disorder the worse that could occur would be losing my grip on reality, and as time and my own previous reasoning have proved is not that necessary and should be thrown away if one is presented with a better alternative, namely me and the opportunity I'm being offered right now.

"That's just what I was thinking Ms. Dawn. So if you will," the man in the mask reached out and displayed a hand for her to take, dressed in a crimson red sleeve and white glove it seemed to suggest grandeur.

Dawn thought, and she stressed the past tense in her mind, she had made her decision. In fact, she had given up on reality a long time ago. She reached out to grab his hand. And then there was pain and darkness. A copy of The Principia Discordia lay open on her desktop to page ten.

"_What is this?" mumbled one to the other, "A religion based on The Goddess of Confusion? It is utter madness:"_

_And with those words, each looked at the other in absolute awe. Omar began to giggle. Mal began to laugh. Omar began jumping up and down. Mal was hooting and hollering to beat all hell. And amid squeals of mirth and with tears on their cheeks, each appointed the other to be high priest of his own madness, and together they declared themselves to be a society of Discordia, for what ever that may turn out to be..._

And on the now placid computer screen a word processor screen was open.

_The Saints of FRN:_

_Hg(Mercury(Hermes)):_

_A god in Roman mythology whose domain is comprised of trade, profit and commerce. He is the son of __Maia Maiestas__ and __Jupiter__. He is the evolution of the Greek being known as Hermes. In the Aeneid and many other sources it is stated that he owns golden and winged sandals that let him fly through the air upon conjured winds. It is in the Aeneid and through dissection of Roman Mythology that Mercury's true nature is revealed, as the patron god of necromancy in Roman society and it is assumed in the total Hellenistic period also due to his association with Hermes by the people of that era. Mercury carries upon his person a wand given to him by Apollo __that he uses to guide the souls of the dead to the Lower World. He controls the living and the dead with it, and it also has the ability to turn anything to gold. This wand is called the Caduceus, loosely translated meaning magic wand. The wand contains three parts, a rod, a pair of wings and two intertwined serpents. The Caduceus originally belonged to Tiresias who separated two copulating snakes with his staff, the Caduceus, and was transformed into a woman for seven years until he repeated his action and was transformed back into a male again. This staff was given to Apollo who then proceeded to give it to Mercury. The story of this exchange is a testament to our Saint's guile. The young Hermes came upon Apollo's cattle and took them for his own pleasure; he slaughtered and ate two and hid the rest. He used some of the cow's sinews and the shell of a turtle he had killed and hallowed to make a lyre by stringing the sinews through the shell. When Apollo came looking for his missing cows he sought out Hermes and the god of commerce promptly showed Apollo to his missing cows and apologized for the whole affair. Apollo, not wishing to invite the matter any further accepted Hermes' apology and was about to make his way when Hermes' began playing the lyre he had made earlier. Apollo, who was the god of music among other things saw this new instrument and desired it as his own. When Apollo asked for the lyre Hermes refused it to him. Apollo then offered the Caduceus in exchange, demonstrating its power by subjugating two snakes, upon which Hermes graciously accepted in trade for his lyre. Hermes engineered the situation to his advantage so that he would acquire the rumored staff of Apollo, and by doing so he gained control of the dead and godhead over early necromancers. For this he is remembered by FRN as a saint of our wholly organization. Mercury's death has not yet been confirmed and it is likely he is still alive due to the popularization of ancient thought during the Renaissance that has yet to fade completely from modern thought. Blessed be those that hold the god who is quick with silver liquids high in their minds._

_Short, concise, and to the point,_

_Might to avid readers disappoint._

_Yet who has the strength of will, of mind,_

_To deny those span so short and unkind?_

_Quite, a few or so It seems,_

_And from my idiomatic language one must gleans,_

_That everything I say is right,_

_And if not, then everything is wrong. Alright,_

_Perhaps the world is not so black and white,_

_But at least everything I write,_

_And I write of everything, can not be believed._

_At least all may know my wisdom once of life bereaved._

_Pan _Twardowski?

…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_Quite coincidently enough, that was the beginning of the end of the world. If there is in fact a hell, and historians had all the knowledge of the universe at their disposal, then said historians would be in dire want of paper in which to theorize on Douglas Adam's worth as a prophesier. They would probably use Nostradamus as an adjective in reference to said, not the historian said, but the entire theory about historians theorizing. But of course none of this is being said, only written down, and one can argue that writing is only a form of thought. Logia! Which when you think about it pretty funny actually. Hahha haha. Seriously though said theorizing is an apt metaphor when one would think about the end of the world. The only difference being that instead of aliens it was a being of such utmost power that he could destroy the world in a flick of his nonexistent fingers. He was currently a bat. A bat without fingers at that, which if one bothers to think about it would make him a different Species, perhaps Genius, From Over Came Phil King Dastardly; Life. Hahha haha. That of course referring to the beginning of the reality coming into existence, as that most certainly is the beginning of any end of anything inclusive in the reality, and for convenience's sake, god bless her soul, let us refrain from going any further into that infinite regression. But back to the bat, he was currently enjoying life on Earth, get it, he's a bat, he flies, doesn't touch earth. Hahha haha, classic. The end of the world would be a while yet, at least by his hand. Did I mention the Nietzschean Dragon, because how can you have a superman when it's a superdragon. The limits of reality are truly boundless! Hail Eris! Hail Discordia! I-E!E?_

It was a lot of pain, so much pain. It felt as if her whole life was pain, had been pain, twenty-two long years of pain, and there was only more pain. Pain?!?! There was pain! Pain! Why was there pain!?!? It felt like her body was being turned inside out to put it mildly, or so it seemed. She exited the swirling portal of greens and purples into a world of blacks and whites and grays and what seemed like a distant and haunting memory of pain. She felt nauseous and nauseousness often and this case being no different, leads to vomiting. Rather unpleasant.

Dawn finished after a few fake stops and sat down, her head still shaken up by the temporary planal sickness and lack of color in the world. She fell onto her back and could see the mask man staring down at her.

"Quite done?"

Dawn stared into the mask that filled her vision for a while before answering. "Yes, I think so."

"Good…bye then. Place to go and people to see, my avatar will take care of some of your needs in the meantime. I hope you have a pleasant time and set things right with the world."

"Wait, whaa?

From her vantage point, Dawn could see the mask being drawn down by coils of darkness. She turned around to see it disappearing into a swirling vortex on the ground not unlike the one she had come out of. Once it had disappeared the body it had left, now kneeling, stood up. She could see the figure was albino, only with yellow eyes. Which really isn't albino, but he had white skin so it doesn't really matter. He looked down on Dawn and smiled.

"Ah the hapless fool, welcome to Nothing."

"Hapless fool?"

"What? Oh, I was being sarcastic, fortunate sage."

"Ok… Nothing?"  
"That's where we are, this reality."

"Then we're in Nothing."

"Yep. Nothing is perfect by the way, but just in case it isn't we need you to help the holy FRN organization. If you'll just follow me I'm sure we will eventually get to wherever we need to go."

"FRN?"

"French Royalist Necromancers."

"I see."

"Logia."

The two stared at each other for a moment or three before the avatar set out at a brisk skip down the road the portal had dropped them off near. She looked at the slowly fading portal and dismissed it in her mind; Dawn rushed to catch up and enjoy Nothing as much as she could. She chuckled silently and kept a steady pace behind him, observing as an art critic the different shades of grey she could see.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Dawn was ambivalent. She knew she would enjoy talking with people again, but she would also hate it. She could already see the patterns of speech setting in, the trite phrases, and pop culture references. Yet, perhaps she could breathe new inspiration out of this, use it as a new base for thought in what was growing stagnant fast. Perhaps it would not be a mere convention of digestion and boredom. She knew she was being hopeful but she was looking forward to getting back together with the old gang. Dusk, Sable, Tim, the bunch of them.

"Life is a game"

"No it's not."

"Yes it is."

"I can't believe you really feel that way, look into your heart and tell me what you find there."

"Apathy."

"Yet everyone, deep-down feels happiness and love."

"I don't."

"Yes you do."

"Yet everyone, deep-down doesn't feel a thing. What do you feel Mr. Apologist? Nothing? I speak in rhetoric of course."

It didn't take her long to ready herself, she kept herself in average shape and such was acceptable. She was out the door and at the restaurant in no time. She came early, like she always did, and got her usual table. This was the one restaurant she ever went out to anymore, good old El Adobe. The Mexican restaurant that makes the best grilled cheese sandwiches in the world, it was always interesting to tell people that and see their reactions all the same, both in their initial disbelief and if they ever ventured to god's cookery, knowledge of her statement's veracity.

The waiter, Suzie, set up the table. Four glasses of water and a bowl of chips accompanied by a candle and a bottle of hot sauce Dawn was pretty sure no one ever used. It was Saturday so she looked around for the regulars, she could see the middle-aged woman and the little old man, it was always a comfort to see that people still appreciated good food.

It was at this thought that her gaggle, as some might put it, of friends went past the counter and into her vision. If they were to have obituaries and if she would happen to be their obituarer, as few would make up a word, then she would have a field day. From left to right there was Dusk, Sable, Tim, and Iris. Respectively speaking their other names weren't that important. All of them were about the same age, they were old friends in their twenties. Dusk was a well proportioned man, if slightly bulky. He had blazing red hair that stood out in an otherwise unexceptional body. Sable was lanky, in that respect the opposite of Dusk. He had yellow eyes similar to Dawn's and he always wore a white suit of some kind, sorta like Dawn and how she always wore red shirts. He also wore white slacks by the way, and a white hat, he liked white, always said it beat all the other colors because it was all the colors, and that the wise men were really fools in disguise that knew nothing about the visible light spectrum. He was albino by the way. Tim was a thespian at heart, he always kept a mask on, not that he was ugly, he just was vain, or perhaps it was another reason, didn't really matter. He wore a robe, black, his whole body was covered in fact, because he also wore a hair-covering hat, or helmet if one might wish to call it such. He always drew the most attention but she didn't mind it. Iris was another story though, she was a priest and dressed the part, a Christian Anglo priest at that. Dawn never really knew what went through her mind, the others she could guess pretty accurately, but Iris was a mystery. One minute she was devout, and the next she was laughing along with Nusquamism.

All in all it was a gaggle that sounded out in motley at times. And in unity at others, yet all the while it was surreal, and Dawn liked it that way. The gaggle descended the slight incline that led to her table and sat down; Dawn could catch the whispers of their conversation as they approached, something about Mobious strips and their plausibility.

They seemed to ignore her presence for a bit before Dusk asked her a question.

"Sorry could you repeat that?"

"I asked you Dawn, why you withdrew from reality?"

"If you're serious, why not?"

"Well that certainly answers my question."

"Sarcasm doesn't befit you Dusk."

Dusk turned to the other guys/girl and shrugged his soldiers. "What is this, Ms. Calque's class, remember the rule against sarcasm, and then we discovered the board said it was tip, good times, eh?"

There was a chorus of mild laughter from the guys/girl. Dawn stared at Dusk for a while before responding. "You didn't answer my question, why would I need reality when I have my imagination and unreality?"

Iris' face turned serious from its previously mirthful appearance. "Then why did you accept our invitation?"

"I don't know, because it was fated? Because I wanted to confirm once and for all that we live in a worthless world." Dawn stood up, and pushed her chair out of the way, "We are nothing, we know nothing, we are vicious monsters in nature, and nature is everywhere!" She paused for a second, out of breath, and then turned, walking out of the room a bit noisily.

The table, and for that matter the room were both very quiet. Then Tim stood up and went after her in a slow but purposeful manner that seemed to fit his regal attire. Dusk, Sable, and Iris exchanged looks, followed by a chuckle from Sable.

"Nothing is perfect, or so they say."

Tim paused for a minute and opened the door. He was greeted with a crying Dawn. He paused for a minute to listen to the sounds of her crying before he put her arm on her shoulder. She looked up at him and there was a smile on her tearful face.

"You know, I feel quite mad and I feel like singing. Heheha." Her laughter had always sounded like her crying, but Tim could still tell the difference between the two.

He looked up at the cloudy sky that cast a shadow over the world and things inclusive, and he began singing.

"Raindrops keep falling on my head, and just like the clown who's feet are too big for his bed, nothing seems to fit-"

"Those, raindrops keep falling on my head." Dawn joined in, slowly at first, and slowly continuing until she stopped again."

"If you ever want to do some talking to the sun you know where I'm at."

Tim headed for his car and the rest of the gaggle exited the brick house restaurant, glancing at her and then Tim before joining him. Dawn brushed away her tears and straightened out her jacket. She got up and followed suit, after all it seemed a good idea to return home and recuperate.

She still felt it though, creeping, crawling through her mind. It was there and it didn't seem like it wanted to leave, perhaps it would be quiet though, perhaps, not.

"The reason why, my dear friends, is that loneliness is a social monster."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Dawn was sitting on the couch, the sun couch as she called it, mostly because when the sun shined down on it; it was the warmest and most comfortable place in the house. She was sighing again; she couldn't tell though since she was too busy thinking, she did a lot of that these days.

Her thought was interrupted by a mask protruding out of a portal and into her face. She could have sworn she had seen it before; the mask had a slit for the eye and one for the mouth. A yellow eye and black lip greeted her from behind the mask of which could be seen a slight curl as if to suggest the man was smiling at her. She could hear an echo of a laugh, presumably directed at her.

"Hello Ms. Dawn. In case you are wondering, and you are, I am the anthropomorphic personification of your madness."

Dawn still shocked into place by the sudden appearance of the man was at a loss of words and movement. After a few moments the man began to speak.

"Aha, just kidding. I'm actually from the future. Now if you will just come with me, there are places and times to go and eventually save and doom. It's not like you have anything else to do so please hurry up."

The man in the mask reached out to her with a heavily robed arm and gloved hand. Dawn shied away, a feeling of dread at the blackness emanating from the man and the portal holding him.

"Ms. Dawn what is wrong?" The man stepped out of the portal fully now, she could see he was wearing a black robe and hat, with the twisted mask tilted questioningly at her. He approached her as she backed into the couch and held up her head with his hand. Looking at her intently, she could see the yellow eye lose its focus.

"Well that is not good Ms. Dawn. Are you sure you do not wish to come with me, there are adventures to be had and things to be done. Things of import too, not like anything you do here."

Dawn managed a faint reply, "no."

The man sighed, "Well if you are going to have it that way, then my name is Ythomit, but you can call me Ryink, and I will be staying with you until you change your mind." In a lighter tone he said, "After all, I have all the time in the world. Ahaha. Bit of a joke you hear."

"I hear."

"Then it's settled! I'll just be taking the guest room then." Ryink reached into the portal and fished around a bit before his hands came back with a few trunks, their contents jangling suspiciously. Trunks in hand, Ryink went through the hallway and hung a right into the corridor that separated the two smaller bedrooms, and he took the time to hang another right into the guest room. All out of rope he set down his trunks on the dresser. He observed the room, it was just like he remembered it, and it could fit a queen-sized bed, a dresser and not much more. The room had a closet full of junk that he would enjoy sifting through later, but for now Ryink jumped upon the bed to rest for a bit, manipulating the souls of the dead to create an intra-chrono gateway really takes it out of a person.

Dawn was sitting, sitting and thinking. She was thinking about how she was either insane, or that magic existed. She had narrowed it down to those two possibilities, the two of which could be easily confirmed by tilting her head up a bit to see the swirling vortex in front of her. She could always hear it though, it kept playing different songs. Yet that could just as easily be her I-Pod she had somehow managed to train her mind to think invisible and not feel in her ears. Yeah that could be it; it was almost certainly definitely a possibility. The only problem was that she had rearranged her position on the couch so that the portal was right in front of her, it was as tall as she was, and wider in width. Its coloration was a mix of purple and green; it was starting to make her nauseous the way it swirled around. She reached out her hand as if to kill the cat, but withdrew it just as suddenly. It would be better to ask Ryink about it first, it wasn't like the portal was going anywhere, heh, a portal moving.

Dawn got up, careful to avoid the portal, and headed towards the guest bedroom. She could only assume that was what Ryink meant. It had been a while since anyone had used the guest bedroom. Come to think of it, her grandparents were the last ones to use it. That brought back memories, Dawn thought as she crossed into the guest room to see Ryink sleeping like a baby, a somewhat unsettling baby, but a baby nonetheless. She wondered how old he was, or for that matter what he looked like, and on another related matter why the hell he time traveled through a portal to her house just to ask her to come with him to who knows where or when for that matter.

She decided to sit in the rocking chair situated in the corner of the room. There wasn't enough space to really rock the chair but it was still a nice chair. She looked at Ryink for a little while before closing her eyes, slowly rocking the chair back and forth as much as the room allowed without hitting the bed. Before she drifted off completely she noticed that the room wasn't fully dark as it was normally, since the shades were always closed; Dawn could see a yellow glow coming from Ryink's mask, or more specifically his eye.

His whisper was carried aloft by the house's silence. "Dawn, do you believe in gods?"

"No."

"Dawn, do you believe that gods assign ordeals, tasks, and punishments. Do you believe in Atlas, in Prometheus?"

"No."

"Do you believe in magic, in madness, in morality, in power, in anything, in nothing?"

"No, I don't believe."

"Just checking. After all, I'm only partly omniscient."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It was very surreal; a change of one's perspective reality can be that way sometimes. More or less she had accepted that magic, or at least very advanced sciences that could in effect be magic, existed. She could almost shiver in thought of the possibility of such, and what kind of society could exist? Would it be the de-facto Nietzschean society in which the powerful made the moral code or would it have advanced into an ordered order, so to speak, or perhaps the perfect anarchy of discord and chaos. Oh the possibilities, the knowledge she could gain, but the more she thought about it, the more certain she became that whatever awaited her in the future was probably synonymous with death.

It would be interesting at least, more interesting than here. Not to say it wasn't interesting, she had her friends whom she treated with every once and a while, and she had her imagination. Yet if what Ryink was saying was true, then how could she afford to pass up this opportunity to turn her dreams into reality? Then why did she say no? It could have been a number of things. Maybe subconsciously she enjoyed her eternal torment of boredom; maybe she was really a masochist at heart but just couldn't work her way up to physical mutilation and contented herself with psychological suffering in its stead.

She turned over in her bed to bury her face into her pillow. She wondered if Ryink was up yet. It was a short walk from her bedroom which occupied the northern room of the house to the guest room, just a small hallway in between. And there he was, awake but still lying on the bed face up; she could tell because of his glowing eye that was currently focused on her.

"Why hello Ms. Dawn, did you enjoy your nap?" Ryink said in what was one of the most innocuous tones she'd ever heard.

"No, and can you tell me what is beyond that portal, why you came to me of all people, and how for that matter?"

"I could, as it is in my abilities, and it is possible, but it is not likely, allowed, nor is it acceptable. Yet again, why would you not wish to transverse the very realms and snob time while you're at it?"

She thought for a second and replied, "How could I even trust you anyways, I don't much belief into what random strangers have to say, even if they are magically appearing strangers."

"Well then, just tell me when you want to go; I'm ready at any time."

"So you're not going to explain all of this to me, because I'd be willing to believe in an outright lie you know."

"Sorry, no. And it's not good to contradict yourself, unless you're a hypocrite, then by all means go ahead. Just please oblige me one thing, don't go through the portal without me, I'd be remiss to leave you alone in such a hostile environment as the future."

"Tch." Dawn scoffed and went back into her room. She turned off the sleep mode on her computer and maximized the word screen. On the screen there were pages upon pages of her thoughts, random and chaotic in their placement and arrangement. She sighed, typing whatever came to her mind in a sort of surrealist approach.

_For those of you who are easily bored, do not read the following italics, or any previous italics, or for that matter, these italics. Thank you for reading these italics, too bad for those other people who don't read italics, eh? Don't know what they're missing out on, nor do you, but you will figure that out soon enough contrary to what the others will never figure out by not reading these italics. You really should be thanking me now that I think about it. _

_I believe nothing because I write of everything._

_Doom is just taking a while, lazy black holes expanding imperceptibly slowly. _

_Death attends parades. _

_Is it anthropomorphic personification or representation, either way representation sounds the better of the two._

_Said modifies said to complete what is said, or at least so it's been said, certainly I have never said so!_

_Wicca-Pedia._

_There are meta-sapiens just waiting to take us by surprise, like the Canadias. _

_Implants destroy the human condition._

_Everything is nature, equally so the unnatural. That begs the question of what Nothing is._

_Insanity is world inclusive, so yes, it is craziness to want to be crazy._

_Don't ask me, I'm just the God of Atheists. _

_Jack and Jill's pet Jackal._

_Knight in shining armor's plight, at what degree to iron burn?_

_Fame suggests grandeur, what do the Taoists suggest?_

_The theory of gravity is in dispute, levity seems the obvious._

_I declare myself ruler of the w rld, is there anyone that cares to contest me? No, I didn't think so._

_Nietzsche-An Super-Dragon. _

_Jackal was a god whom had a knight that liked to play with his wife Night. _

_Psyche, no one ever meant reality was life. _

_"I-E!E!" said the beholder prone._

_What and the what now, The Whom is grammatically incorrect?!?!?_

_Immortality is for the future, suffering is for the past and present. _

_Great men are forgotten; truly great men are remembered in their place._

_A sickle for the Imp is not so good I think. _

_You're so trying, but you always seem to fail. Or so failure seems, eh? Seems!_

_Of the two, the carrot beats the shoe, at least in Spanish ensue. Zanahorria!_

_Pain is but to wane, and pleasure but a whisper from my long dead sister. _

_Frogs, frogs, everywhere a frog, the signs are saying, frog, frog, everywhere a frog. _

_Personal arrangement makes for a very ugly flower._

_I am not certain that nothing exists, there is only O not 0 of substance._

_It's all mega-corporations anyway, or didn't the eve of dawn teach you so._

_So so, ah I see. It all makes perfect sense now that I think about it. _

_Anarchy is just another way of saying I love you so I'm going to institute reform enough to make the world at least a temporarily better place, reform of course not referring to strictly governmental processes but the general meaning as such._

_Check, plus two, plus two is equal to x. What is check?_

_The meaning of life? Never heard of it._

_Al, hey bro. How's it hanging, are your meats drying well, especially those salted ones of Bismallah!_

_Punch, he beat me to the punch of cartoons._

_Sigh, the world seems so empty and dreary._

_Hell is material and thus exothermic due to the specification of brimstone, i.e. sulfur. Thus proving that Heaven is below us and Hell above, morality has yet to be determined, please qualify as undetermined or 'x/0'._

_Voltaire's courage mysteries me, what is courage but an abstract concept and how, even if it was not abstract, be applied to the process of waking up controlled by the human pineal gland, or more specifically hormones?_

_Ah, such is life, to each his own, eh?_

_Haha haha, hehe, haha. Holly Tree of Blight._

_Quite trite._

_Short, concise, and to the point, might to avid readers disappoint, but who has the strength of will, of mind, to deny those span so short and unkind. _

_Commercials doldrums can't compare to what comes through my mind and then the air. _

_Share my brothers, all the rest you matter not._

_I've often wondered if blood does clot, because would it not be the item that causes blood to clot the clot. The clotter becomes the clot, eh what a sod._

_Sitting in the shadows I observed a dog cross yonder and eat some dirt._

_Of the man, the father's child. _

_Complex things are imaginary and real. _

_There are no evil people, just crass ones. _

_Poptarts are better cold than hot, hot I've never tasted but Frost has told me so. _

_In the Name of God, there is no Cabala._

_Cteck and mahe._

_We didn't ststrt the fire said the stuttering pyrotechnic. _

_Judgeaar, jurarr, arrrnd executionaar are theaar piraaarte, arrr. It's a not are. _

_The root of all evil is not in fact a root._

_Conducting charity is but an act upon a stage of Shakespeare's malcontent._

_Did you find, in your mind, did you sign, did you rhyme?_

_Come on, let's do it, come on let's kill it._

_Will you believe me, believe us, if not then you will die and go to some very bad place, not hell of course because go means travel elsewhere. It shall be worse._

_Oblivion is not so bad, in fact no one ever come's back. _

_SPESPESPESPESPESPESPESPESPESPESPSPESPESPESPESPESPE, typed blindly, is in order._

_Logia demands my entrance._

_In time you will see, and understand ambrosia is the nectar we need seek._

_There exists no metaphore. _

_A bird upon a wire looks like a creeping vine, the other way around is true. _

_An upright vase between two trees does to me a rabbit please. _

_When god did sneeze we felt a breeze, coincidental though in year of nineteen eighty three. _

_Dogs are barking in the background, and only us three can hear them, seems not the neighbor folk have ears or at least their minds have gone with the years. _

_I've already forgotten about that, please don't remind me as I can't remember._

_!French Royalist Necromancers, Entente optional. FeRN!_

_So Jackal upon finding Knight with Night did enjoy a good smite. _

_Surrealists empty their minds and write whatever comes to mind, if their minds are empty then how can they have any thought, it just doesn't make sense._

_Astaroth, demon prince of hell is actually Aprhodite, goddess of love in disguise._

_Ikolis is Loki. _

_Can a linear mind devise a warped path?_

_Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, general punnery is not so kindly looked upon._

_Sigh, you had to stab me in the spleen didn't you. Wonder why I'm not dead though._

_She said it was none of my business, I assume she meant economically. _

_Tim loves you. He is the inexistent god of atheists._

_Ex-Tanto. _

_I am a god because I went back in time and made it so I didn't exist, then I changed the events again so that I existed. Thus I created myself from the nothing of which I had placed myself in. To be more specific, I destroyed and created, the necessary prerequisites for godhood. _

_Current client: Apple Processor looking for Apples._

_Vampires wear stake-proof vests, and why the hell did anyone think garlic would do anything?_

_The cruelest form of torture, contrary to popular belief of bliss, is the malignant selection of memories to be disposed. _

_Sanity is the taint and Insanity is the tainted._

_The eye that looks upon another eye that looks upon itself. The eye cannot grasp seconds._

_My idiom states that I am always correct; any disputation is futile because I am always right. The opposite of course being that I am always wrong, but I'm always right._

_Two plus three is equal to one, and I didn't even need a Fnord. _

_What's with god killing these days?_

_Seventy-Two is the magic number… of demons._

_Voin and dull._

_Me and Baal had a pleasant chat, we drew down palls and a guy named Paul. _

_What, my friends, is the difference between a pirate ghost and a ghost pirate. One is a ghost that became a pirate in profession; the other is a pirate that became a ghost. Yet since time is irreverent and the difference between the two relies on time there is no difference. _

_I can appreciate art, I just can't create it. Creating matter requires godhood I do not possess. _

_The benefits aren't that great._

_Come one; come all to join FRN so that you too may live a FRNly life._

_The cross hurts, no one rounded down the edges. _

_XX+4-e+O. _

_Four rights do make a wrong because only an idiot would take any more or any less._

_Barbarians need staffs to survive. _

_ClBr ____ RtS, please balance. No triple-weights allowed. _

_By business do you mean Capitalistic or Communistic, because I'm all out of communes.  
Super Pedro Express., SPEcial delivery. _

_You're quite full of yourself, not that that's a bad thing though Mr. Praepropere Laute Nimis Ardenter Studiose Gula III_

_Haha, haha, hehe, haha. Commas. Fragment. Incorrect. Grammatical. Usage. Periods. Fragment. (S). Parenthetical. Proper. Citation. Needed. Was. Plurality. Fragment._

_H is for hospital, hospital is for L and D. L is for life, D is for death._

_You'll break the cast! Int Death 0 ((Int)Life)_

_Can you eat Tarot cards? If not, then what is their use?_

_Asdfjklglsdioqpxzm.,zcx.m./qwert. Typed blindly, in chaos. _

_It's reallllly the smell of burning tires…_

_Did Halloween originate because of Celtic fear or because of a fear of spirits in another culture? _

_Naïve/._

_There are two I's in team._

_Hey Jude, are you on metaphore?_

_You will die wearing your skin. _

_Months turn into days and everyone is in a haze._

_I unit, a measure I decree, is needed for Insanity._

_In in three, par of four, call it out or through the door._

_The viruses, they are a changing._

_I predict in 3045 A.C. that humanity will die. _

_Strike that, 2124 A.C. _

_No I will not go down the rabbit hole, it's unsanitary. _

_I've got nothing but general goatory, they're from Derrag._

_No! We can't stop the contamination, we're out of soap. Tragic really, because of natural resources and limited exhuming and travel abilities. _

_Please, would you deny me your food?_

_What is bestiality when humans are animals? Eww, a sheep._

_Send me off with a smile and a blessing._

_Hg(Mercury(Hermes)), hold the saint in mind._

_Stupid wise Taoists. _

_No such thing as evil can't have eyes. Not a surprise._

_News should read some history so as not to repeat itself. _

_The freezing legion is quite cold, or not._

_Charon loves his three-sided die._

_Latin Wordlist: N_

_There are plenty of Sephirots to spare._

_Why did you replace my Keter with Da'at. That's just dogmatic moronia._

_Douglas Adams is actually Zombie Nostradamus in disguise. _

_One member one vote, OMOV._

_I'm only partly omnipotent._

_Chaos excuses all my mistakes._

_I am prepared to give a lengthy dissertation and there is nothing you can do about it._

_Pan is actually the son of Hg?_

_Voltaire is a three-fourths member of FeRN, he's French, he probably would support Ententes, and he could be a royalist, possibly a necromancer. No possibly allowed. _

_The portals are moving!_

_String theory you say?_

_.nidO ran across the esroN fields_

_I dislike candy, but chocolate is okay._

_The book of the dead is not actually a book._

_What kind of world do we live in when Satanists don't actually believe in Satan!?_

_The mask has a slit for an eye and one for the corner of a mouth, curled slightly up in a bemused expression._

_Loneliness is a social monster._

_Cross the cross and over the blood to the merry crown of thorns._

_Is it plagiarism to take knowledge that is freely given and not expecting of return?_

_It is well in order to order._

_What? I don't know already!_

_Deipnosophist_

_The philosophy rap: My name is Philo but you can call me sopher so. That's right it's the reality rap, yo. I'm an atheist of surroundings, shapin', changin', the nature through the environments. People are made, and broken by the æthers, the betters. At least that's the lie they try to tell me, at least that's the truth they try to force me. Can't stop me, all of reality, bends to me and my belief in gods of atheist. Gods of truthsayas, and doomsayers. That's right it's the reality rap, yo._

_Put a sticky note in your shoe to remember._

_One needs a pentagram to balance._

_Reification is just something I can't quite put my finger on, maybe if I made an abstract model…_

_Oh look, there's an elven corpse. No not eleven corpse, that would be grammatically incorrect anyways. _

_Once you go to hell you automatically learn how to speak English and Spanish, all other languages are forgotten. Please forward your complaints to Sacramento, California, Hotel, floor 13, and room number 7, resident YHVH._

_Can you find me a more chaotic book?_

_Insanity is the taint of sanity corrupted redundant; there is a reason why it is in sanity. _

_There are still pirates, still slaves, still bias and many days._

_A'Un-(Crass)._

_Is there really any difference?_

_Do you believe in gods? We all believe in gods, for gods make us believe. _

It took her a while, but she felt like her head was at least a little clearer now. Dawn called down the hallway, "Ryink, are you still up?"

"Yes, Ms. Dawn."

"Grab your stuff, we're leaving."

"What a lovely idea Ms. Dawn, intra-chrono portal travel is really a must if anyone is to say they've experienced."

Ryink raised himself from his bed and joined Dawn as she went to brave a different frontier. As she stepped through the portal she took one last look at what was to be seen only in memory, a dreary little house and a dreary little life plus a man in a mask that grinned at the least in the corner of his mouth.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The phone rang once; Dawn managed to hear it through the tune of Rocket Man. She threw done the pod and off the blankets and hurried out of her chair and room to the phone. She picked it up before the answering machine kicked in and saw it was from Dusk; holding the phone to her ear she asked who was calling.

"I am the Jackalknight! and I am here to reap your soul."

"Wouldn't you be the grim reaper then?"

"No, I reaped his soul, for you see I have all the goodness of Egypt and the feudal era plus a tasty nugget filling."

"I see, you do realize if you divide your name into three parts, and spell it differently it contains sexual innuendo and sounds Halloween-eqsue, in example jack-all-night."

"Well changing words can often have that effect, not the Halloween par though, at least not usually."

"True."

"So anyways if you're not busy the Jackalknight!, and the gang would like to reap your soul today, preferably over at your place, and over a card game perhaps, board games would also be acceptable, even video games if you would so fancy."

"Sure, I have no objections to getting my soul reaped. Any time good for you?"

"Well if you would come to your couch and look out the front window then I'm sure we could arrange a time."

"Ok Dusk, you can come in, I'll open the door." Dawn put down the phone and walked to the door, of which she promptly opened. Dusk was sitting on the bench with his usual lackadaisical expression, Iris was holding up Señor Patches, who had come to be the center of attention, Sable was also sitting and Tim was standing in the corner. It was funny, that even in such a small space as the patio it didn't feel cramped. She gestured for the cat; it was always reassuring to have that warm mass of black and white fur in her arms. She lightly turned his head towards hers to stare into the cat's eyes; they always seemed to suggest a different perspective that just couldn't be communicated across the mortal boundaries. Putting him down she welcomed her friends into her abode, when she thought about it, was adobe with the 'b' and 'd' switched. Ah, the coincidences in life one encountered.

To break the silence Dusk piped up, "So… anyone in the mood for a good game of Risk; I'm feeling risky, get it?"

"Yes, I think we all got it, despite your terrible punnery Risk isn't a bad suggestion. Dawn?"

"Sure Sable, I'll go get it. Iris, Tim, Risk ok with you?"

Dawn was greeted with an ok and a fine so she went into her room and brought out the Risk game. It had been a while, even with her parents she never played that much, they were too easily bored by sometimes day-long game. She chose gray of course, Dusk chose blue, Iris chose green, Sable chose red, and Tim chose black. Only her father had ever chosen yellow, the almost never favored color, as his soldiers. Dawn organized her pieces into the infantry, horsemen, and cannonry, it wasn't necessary but it helped her keep track of her soldiers. Risk was a game of skill and strategy, for example, one should never choose the Ukraine, the Ukraine is weak! Seinfeld, for those who are unaware, delivered one of the greatest Risk lessons ever.

Dawn's goal for world domination was in the Americas and Asia sometimes. It was a genius plan that more or less worked. Europe could be, and always was, attacked by the many surrounding countries, Africa the same, Asia, phhh, don't even need to state the reason for Asia's faults, Australia had only one way to take more territory and that was through Asia, which sucks anyways, yet the Americas couldn't be attacked by a large force, yet they can attack pretty much anywhere, including Asia and establish fronts from which to expand. North America in particular is the most useful, and that was how one wins Risk. Since one can only attack with large forces in one territory it is better to have few entrances out and in, but be able to use them effectively. Of course, America wasn't foolproof, and Dawn lost occasionally, occasionally also including this time. Somehow the dastardly forces of Sable had snuck up from Africa to capture some of her territories in South America and all of Tim's there, from there it was all downhill, she tried to make a stand in the Mexican area but it just wasn't fated to be so. Iris in Asia wasn't bothering Sable enough to stop his invasion into South America, Dawn suspected a non-aggression treaty cleverly hid by the occasional small aggression. Alas, it was over, and with the Americas in his control Sable then proceeded to wipe out Europe and Asia, then Australia for the win. It was fun even though it took most of the afternoon, actually all of it.

Noticing the short hand on the five Dusk posed the question of what to do for food. "So anyone want to hit a restaurant? Perhaps Bogey's anyone?"

Dawn politely refused, "No thanks Dusk, at least not tonight."

"'K then, another game of Risk at your house next Saturday ok with you Dawn, guys? I for one would like to show one James how he was just a lucky bastard and won't be able to conquer the world a second time."

"I've played the game more than once you know."

"I know; see you later Dawn."

Dusk and the rest of them left before she even had the chance to tell them it was ok. Aw well, it wasn't like she didn't enjoy today, to use a double negative. Exhausted after the heavy-duty session of Risk she sat down on at the table for a few minutes before going to peruse the cupboards. She grabbed a bag of Ritz cheese crackers and in her usual ravenous demeanor began to eat said. It was kinda nice to have friends over for the day; she just couldn't handle any more of them for today though.


End file.
